


Tower of Babel

by Darkwood_Princess



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, Language, The Universal Translator broke, based on a tumblr prompt, miscomunications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwood_Princess/pseuds/Darkwood_Princess
Summary: When the universal translator is disabled by a mysterious gas, what happens to the crew and inhabitants of Deep Space Nine? A story about the challenges and beauty of diversity, and the creativity inherent in one 'dear doctor' and a 'plain simple tailor'.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a post by tumblr user Sad-eyed-lady-of-the-low-lands.
> 
> I set it some time after "Civil Defense", early enough that the shenanigans required fit in with the early tone of the series. The Cardassian phrases are words strung together from Tinsnip and Vyc's Cardassian Dictionary. All Urdu is from the Internet as while my extended family speaks it, I don't! All other language assumptions are just that, assumptions of a fan. :)

There were days when Julian Bashir was convinced that the previous Cardassian Owners of the station were utterly willing to cripple themselves a little bit to easily for far too many reasons.

Or at the very least that the station was possessed by a lingering vengeful spirit of chaos.

Case in point? Chief O'Brien and Jake had only just recovered their confidence from the nonsense that was Dukat's-Vid-Messages-From-Hell. Heck, Julian himself still had moments when ordering Tarkalean Tea brought an unwelcome surge of adrenaline where he wondered if a spinning ball of laser death was going to appear instead of his much needed caffeine.

(And the less that was said about that ridiculous Aphasia Bomb from the first year they'd been here, the better.)

No, today was definitely one of those days where Julian wondered about the wisdom of chasing his dream of frontier medicine. He'd been ten minutes into some well deserved research time when all the power in the station had gone out, plunging the infirmary into a darkness so complete, even his genetically enhanced sight was pulling up bupkis.

The eerie darkness was only broken by the young doctor's rapidly increasing breathing and the snap-hiss of something flooding the environmental system, something that had a distinctly sweet smell and that Julian could only assume was not good in the least.

Nurse Jabara broke the still blackness with a shout and two back up lights as the gas dissipated, yelling out to him in what Julian belatedly realized was not standard. Although, now that he thought about it, he wasn't thinking in Standard either, having switched over to a language he hadn't used in years.

Perhaps it was the shock of the whole situation. He hadn't used Urdu in at least a decade, not since he'd fallen out with his parents. It wasn't very helpful in a world where IDIC was a great concept but cultural hang ups could still on occasion set you back. He had no need to stand out from the crowd.

No, that way lead danger.

So this left him with the knowledge that Jabara must be speaking Bajorran, a language he was still thoroughly unfamiliar with, while he was suddenly stuck in his first language, a language he was almost positive no one else spoke either.

He'd bet all the synthehol in the quadrant that the power outage and the weird gas were to blame for this.

Nodding his thanks to Jabara, Julian took the lantern offered him just as the power slammed back on with a whine of over taxed generators. Oh yes, O'Brien would be having a field day with this. As he left the Infirmary, heading towards Ops, he could already imagine the Engineer's face and how angry the Commander would be.

Commander Sisko put up with a lot, but when it came to Cardassia's tendency to cripple themselves when just the slightest bit of paranoia hit them, he was more likely to shout than negotiate.

Julian didn't really blame him on that one.

He entered Ops to the sound of several dozen languages being spoken at once. Thankfully most of the Bajorans seemed to be understanding each other, although it seemed that there were momentary bits of confusion brought on by differing dialects.

As for the rest of the Senior Staff? Well, Julian tried not to frown as he realized that thanks to whatever had hit them and the power loss, the Captain was attempting to speak Louisiana Creole to a tired O'Brien, who was muttering in frustrated Gaelic, while Jadzia threw in what was most likely sarcastic comments in Trill. Kira was just frowning and following the speakers like it was a game of bad racquetball, clearly having no idea what was going on.

Nearby a furious Quark was shouting in the sharp, acerbic sound of the Ferengi language at a non-plussed Odo, who stared at the bartender as if he was positive this was all Quark's fault, body language saying all that needed to be said.

It was an utter, beautifully chaotic mess and part of Julian reveled at hearing languages he'd never paid attention to spoken with fluent rapidity. He'd never known how melodious Gaelic could be, even when spoken in frustration, how rounded, yet staccato the Trill Language was, how Louisiana Creole seemed to rock with each syllable, pouring with the sound of all it's components out of a man who had a voice that evoked images of the magic of New Orleans.

Even the harsh words Quark was lobbing at Odo had a magnificent uniqueness to them, and while he'd only heard the typical 'hrumphs' from Odo, he bet that the language of Changelings was just as fantastic as the Bajoran being bandied back and forth by concerned technicians.

"Salmakt, S'h'iosr'ha Bashir," Julian turned at the soft sound of Garak's voice, smiling despite himself at the appearance of his friend who seemed to come and go in Ops as he pleased. He had a general idea as to what Garak had just said, the Cardassian's greeting ringing true no matter what language he spoke.

"Assalam O' Alaikum, Garak." He chose the greeting he'd heard growing up, despite the shades of religion that still clung to the phrase, happy to wish peace upon the Tailor who so often seemed to truly need it.

"Chek a usU ra'ajev'pey!" Garak laughed drily and Julian could just imagine what he was saying about the situation, how utterly ridiculous it was that they were stuck like this.

"Kya ap Urdu bolte hain, Garak?" He was pretty sure the answer was no, an answer he got as the Tailor merely tilted his head at him as if he were a particularly interesting pair of trousers in need of hemming. Well, it was worth a shot. "Maf karna."

"Mira'pey," Garak smirked, continuing to watch as Sisko pinched the bridge of his nose and Kira gave up, turning to go talk to the technicians who understood her. O'Brien continued to look glum and Jadzia let out a noisy sigh, leaning against a consol while the Engineer wrote out instruction that no one could understand on a pad.

Julian, wondering if Garak might have any clue as to whether this were a Cardassian created problem, gestured to the Tailor and then the mess that was Ops. Garak shook his head in the negative, muttering something that sounded like, "A dakilom!" As if that meant anything to Julian currently, but he'd take it as an assertion of innocence, although there was probably nothing innocent about Garak in the least, as he'd come to learn.

Julian had expected Cardassian to sound sibilant, given the reptilian look of the speakers, but Garak spoke it with what seemed like the cultured sound of Julian's normal standard.

He found he liked it the more he listened to it, that a native language had a musicality all its own, something he'd never understood when a few of his friends at the Academy had chosen to major in Linguistics. He wondered how long it would take him to pick up the languages being spoken in Ops, how quickly his enhancements might steal and siphon the magic of this moment, the beauty of the puzzle.

(Though, judging by the defeated look on Commander Sisko's face, he wasn't seeing much beauty currently. The panicking voice of Jake that came through over Sisko's com in high and reedy Creole only seemed to highlight the absurdity of the moment further.)

Garak gestured towards him expectantly, prompting Julian to ask him just what he wanted, leading to the two of them forming a semi sign and pidgin language that was a mish-mash of Urdu and Cardassian. It was the most fun either had had in ages, and no one bothered them, figuring that it was another weird Garak and Julian thing.

And when it was Rom of all people who discovered the hidden non-Bajoran and non-Cardassian gas canisters, tied into the environmental systems just behind the holosuites by someone who was probably trying to spite Quark but had inadvertently got the whole station, Julian and Garak used their combined language to work the Sickbay computers and find a cure for the chemical that had been blocking the universal translator neurally.

Odo seemed more grumpy than usual, given that the canisters had been there for at least a year, leaving them with no one to track down while with the station back to normal and the universal translators working again, Julian felt a pang of sorrow that the fun was over.

(That was of course until Garak started leaving him messages in their franken-language. After all, a secret code was good practice for simple tailors and precocious doctors.)


	2. Now With Awesome Art From SummerArtist

http://summerartist.tumblr.com/post/169927899451/drawing-of-a-scene-from-darkwoodprincesss-fic

**Author's Note:**

> The conversation between the two of them reads: 
> 
> "Hello, Doctor Bashir."  
> "May Peace Be Upon You, Garak"  
> "What a messy afternoon."  
> "Do you speak Urdu, Garak?" Garak shakes head no and Julian says, "I'm sorry."  
> "Anytime." And then later "A conspiracy!"


End file.
